


Hey Pretty Baby, Come On Back To Me

by shugamonie



Series: I'll Never Get Over Those Blue Eyes [4]
Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), Jim Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix Experience, Johnny Cash (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shugamonie/pseuds/shugamonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob decides that he wants to go back to America. Jimi thinks he's leaving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey Pretty Baby, Come On Back To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last chapter. Contains epilogue.

It was now 1967, and they were living in London, where Jimi and his music were getting the most attention. America hadn't quite latched onto yet him at that time. They would soon though, surely.

Jimi and Bob were practically joined at the hip, and everyone knew it. Everyone who knew them knew how close they were. They still had their personal relationship hidden, with no plans of ever telling anyone.

Bob especially was adamant that they keep it a secret. Sometimes Jimi would say that he wants to tell his parents and Bob always shook his head.

“Don't, Jimi.” 

Jimi would sigh and agree for it to remain secret. 

One time someone had asked Bob why he didn't have a girlfriend and Bob replied, “I've got many girlfriends, but I don't have any _girlfriends_.”

People didn't ask Jimi, because he was around women quite a bit, and most just assumed that he'd slept with some of them, because groupies you know. So Jimi had no issues with questions such as the ones Bob got.

“I'm taking a break from the _girlfriend_ world.” He added.

 

Even when Jimi's life got busier as his success started to grow, he always had Bob by his side, mainly because he couldn't see his life without Bob in it.

Bob was happy for it not to be all about him for once. He thought it was amusing to see Jimi going through what he'd went through just last year and the years prior.

Bob hated all of the woman that surrounded Jimi and his band. He hated how they would cling onto Jimi like they somehow had the right because he was famous and they were beautiful women. Jimi wouldn't shrug them off, only because he knew he had to keep the image. He couldn't let it show that he really didn't want any of these women. He just wanted Bob.

Bob would sit across the room with a wine glass in his fingers and a cigarette between his fingers while someone spoke beside him, but his eyes were fixed on Jimi, daring his boyfriend to so much as kiss one of the girls.

They always shared a room together at the end of the day though. Jimi always made sure of that. Sure he'd let his friends and anyone else groovy enough to hang out in his room, hang out. But at the end of the night he made sure it was only him and Bob.

Jimi would be strumming lightly on his guitar, while Bob laid there watching Jimi's fingers silently.

“So if you're improvising all the time, Jimi, how do you remember them and play them again on stage or go in to record them and remember what you played?” Bob wonders out loud and Jimi smiles over at his secret lover.

He shrugs, “I remember the ones that I want to remember and I forgot the ones that I don't.”

“Is that so?” Bob says lightly.

“Yeah.” Jimi sets his guitar aside and crawls over to Bob on the bed wrapping his arm around Bob's waist, face going to the crook of Bob's neck.

“Thank you for staying with me.” He breathes in Bob's familiar scent, closing his eyes in content.

“My pleasure.” Bob whispers.

 

~.~.~

 

Bob still preferred to mainly stand backstage during Jimi's concerts, rather than sit out in the crowd. But whenever they could have reserved spots in the very front, Jimi would tell Bob to sit in the front so he could see him while he performed. After begging cutely for a bit, Bob would finally agree, and Jimi would smirk down at him in the crowd knowingly, while Bob sat with his leg crossed over the other, puffing on cigarette after cigarette, sunglasses perched on his nose.

Bob thought Jimi was a fantastic musician, and was very entertaining to watch. He was going to change music for ever. Bob knew it.

Bob was also ready to begin making more music himself, but it was kind of hard to do that when he was so busy supporting Jimi on his tours.

He promised he'd never leave Jimi, but he couldn't deny that he was beginning to feel bored with this. Bored with being dragged around to every place Jimi went, every dinner, hotel, interview. He never really got the break that he so desperately wanted after his own tour because he'd immediately gone to England with Jimi.

He wanted to settled down in a house, not an apartment, and he wanted to record music again. Probably with Robbie and Garth, Richard and all the other guys from the Hawks. If they were down for it. Which they most likely would be, no doubt.

He knew Jimi wanted Bob by his side, he knew he shouldn't leave Jimi to tour alone with his band and all of these other scene hungry people. 

But he also knew he had his own life to live, and no matter how much he loved Jimi and wanted to be there for him; Bob wasn't 2 people.

So he'd brought it up to Jimi one night as they attended a party thrown by one of Jimi's band members in his hotel room.

Jimi and Bob we're sat in the corner of the room, Jimi was playing something on the guitar for Bob while Bob smiled at his boyfriend, feeling sad about what he was about to bring up.

“You know I love you Jimi,” He began quietly, once Jimi had finished his little tune. “And I'd never leave this relationship.”

Jimi narrows his eyes, not liking the solemn sound of Bob's voice. He wishes he could take Bob's hands right now, but everyone would stare and whisper about it. So he just folded his hands together in his lap and listened.

“But I do want to go back home for a bit, maybe make some music of my own with my band.” He tilts his head to the side, trying to read Jimi's expression, “You understand, right?”

Jimi nodded very slightly, “So you're leaving me?” He finally looked Bob in the eyes and Bob shook his head.

“Not like that, no. I'm just going back to the states.”

“Bob we have a place here--”

“I know, Jimi but I...I just want to go home.” He says desperately, “I really do.” He played with the promise ring on his finger, taking it off to read the engraved words on the inside.

_'Love Only You'_

He smiled.

Jimi watched him quietly, and Bob bit his lip nervously, putting the ring back on his finger, he looks up at Jimi warily.

“I'd never leave you Jimi, I'm just leaving England.”

Jimi looked down at his guitar and began strumming lightly, “So then when will I see you again?”

Bob sighs, “Whenever you can, I hope. Since you live here now, we won't be able to see each other all too often, unfortunately.”

“ _We_ live here, Bob. _We_ do, together.” Jimi said, “Stay here with me Bob okay? Why don't you just record here? I can't be here without you.”

“Yes you can.” Bob mumbled harshly, “You can be here without me, and you will. Because I'm going home.” Bob stands up from the chair and begins making his way through the crowd and towards the hotel door.

Jimi is right behind him, not bothering to say goodnight to any of his band mates.

“Just like that, huh?” Jimi almost yells, “You're leaving me just like that--”

“I'm _not_ leaving you!” Bob spins around to face Jimi once they're in the hallway away from the people and noise.

“You are Bob, you are. You're leaving me to go back to the states because you're sick of this, this isn't your thing right? This rock n roll lifestyle? You're going to go back to your calm folk-singin' life, isn't that right?”

Bob's mouth falls open, “Fuck you Jimi, I don't sing folk--”

“Oh whatever. Bob Dylan is too cool for fuckin' labels, I forgot.” Jimi walks past Bob and Bob glares at him before following after him.

“I know what that rock n roll lifestyle is like Jimi, I lived in it myself!”

“This is different and you know it. This is on a whole other level, and you can't handle it, can you?”

“It's not about that, I don't let this get to me! Jimi, you know that. I just want to go home, alright? That's it!” He shouts, glancing over at someone who'd just opened their door to see what all the yelling was about, “Sorry, man.” He tells them lowly as Jimi continues walking in the direction of their hotel room.

 

Once in their room, Jimi quickly grabbed up his bottle of whiskey and fell onto the bed with it, while Bob stood there, watching as his boyfriend chugged the alcohol down.

“Jimi don't drink alright? Please.” He got onto the bed and attempted to take the bottle from Jimi's hand, but Jimi pushed him away and muttered for him to fuck off.

Bob sat back, looking at Jimi in shock, “God, fuck you.” He shook his head and moved from the bed, “You want to act like a baby, fine. I'll go get my own room.” He stormed to the door, stopping when Jimi called after him.

“Don't Bob, please.”

Bob clenched his teeth and crossed his arms, “I refuse to sit here and let you treat me like shit, Jimi, it's not happening tonight.”

“I don't treat you like shit, baby, come'ere.” He motions Bob back over to the bed, but Bob shakes his head.

“When you drink you do.”

Jimi sighs and sets the bottle aside on the nightstand, “Okay, I won't, please come to me.” He holds out his arms and Bob sighs, getting back onto the bed.

“Why you gonna leave me like that, baby?” Jimi whispers, kissing Bob's throat lightly and Bob groans at Jimi's now liquor stained breath.

“Don't, Jimi.”

“Don't what.”

“Accuse me of leaving you! I have to live my own life alright? We're both independent people, we have to do our own thing. I'm not leaving you. Once you're done here in England you feel free to come to live with me in Woodstock.”

Jimi snickers at that, “Woodstock, you want to live in Woodstock?”

“Fine then, don't live with me. Have fun with your blonde bimbo.” Bob moves away from Jimi, turning around so his back is to the younger man.

“My blonde bimbo?” Jimi's hand suddenly came up to ruffle Bob's hair, “You don't look blonde to me.”

Bob's hand flew back to slap Jimi across the face, “I'm not a fuckin' bimbo.”

“Ow, Bob!” Jimi grabbed his stinging cheek.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Who's my blonde bimbo, Bob? Hm? I don't recall having one.”

“Fuck you.”

“The only person I'm fucking is you.”

“Right.”

“What? Now you think I'm cheating on you? I would never cheat on you, Bob, you know that. And anyways,” Jimi voice suddenly rises, “You wouldn't have any room to talk because you were fucking Johnny Cash and your manager when we were together on your tour. Or did you forget about that?”

Bob's heart drops and he turns around to meet Jimi's eyes, “You know damn well that what Albert was doing to me was forced. How could you say that, Jimi?”

“Well you were having sex with Johnny Cash, and I know that wasn't forced.”

Bob wants to slap Jimi again, he really does, “You know I'm sorry about that. Why do you have to twist the knife, Jimi?”

“Because you're sitting there accusing me of cheating, when you know damn well I never have or will.”

“I wasn't accusing you of cheating. But I see that blonde bitch all over you, and don't tell me you haven't thought about fucking her.”

“I haven't, Bob! Jesus!” He presses his hands into his face and Bob just glares at him.

“I don't believe that for a minute.”

“Whatever, Bob, I'm going to sleep. I don't need this.”

“Oh you don't? Oh okay well then I'll just pack my things and go then, since you don't need this.” Bob quickly got from the bed and walked over to the closet where their suit cases were.

“Oh come on, Bob, it's late.”

Bob didn't reply, he just pulled out his suitcase and then went to the bathroom to grab his tooth brush and body soaps.

Jimi stood up from the bed, and although slightly swaying on his feet, he made it to Bob without falling over.

He grabbed Bob's arm and pulled him away from his suitcase, pressing him firmly to the wall.

 

“Don't leave Bob, not like this. Not on bad terms, please.” He leans in to give Bob a kiss on the lips and Bob kisses back for a moment, before turning his head away. “I love you.” Jimi adds, keeping one hand on Bob's cheek, while the other moves down to rest at the small of his back.

“I love you too.” Bob replied in a whisper, “Always will, and me leaving doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. I do want to be with you, I always will be with you. But right now we're going to be apart for a while, because we both want different things, okay? I don't want this to end between us, and it won't.” He moves his arms to wrap them around Jimi's neck. “Okay?”

Jimi nods taking Bob's lips against his again, both of them melting into it.

They have sex on the bed, pressed together underneath the covers, Bob his back with his legs spread as Jimi thrusts into him at a slow and steady pace, worshiping Bob with kisses all over his neck and chest.

 

A week later, Bob was on a plane on his way back to the U.S, New York to be exact and Jimi cried all night, not letting anyone into the room. He got drunk, did some heroin, before smoking a joint that Bob had rolled.

 

~.~.~

 

Jimi was torn, and so Bob had to assure him every time they talked on the phone, that he didn't leave him.

“I'm still yours, don't worry.”

“Damn straight you're still mine.” Jimi said into the phone, desperately wishing he could touch Bob right now but he was all the way across the ocean.

Bob smiled as he sat at his desk, typewriter in front of him, “Wish you were here right now, I'm getting kind of horny.”

Jimi growled lowly, “Don't do that to me, Bob, that's cruel.”

Bob threw his head back in laughter.

 

After Bob got off the phone with Jimi, his phone started to ring again and he grinned, picking up the phone again.

“You again?” He said playfully and the voice that entered his ears made his throat close up with nervousness. “Johnny? How've you been?”

“Tourin' my ass off, how 'bout you? Your manager gave me your number when I ran into him the other day.”

That explains how he got a hold of him.

“I'm alright, been relaxing at this house that I bought up in Woodstock.”

“No shit?” Johnny smiles, laughing lightly, “Woodstock, that's a sweet deal.”

“Yeah it's a nice little house. Very peaceful.”

“Mm.”

They're silent for several moments after that, and then Johnny asks, “How are things with Jimi?”

“Good, good. He's actually in London now. I was with him for a few months, but I was beginning to get worn out by it all. So I told him I was going to go back to America. We had an apartment down there, and when I told him I wanted to go back to the states he got so mad, saying I was leaving him and all this shit.”

“Aw Bob, you left your man all alone in London?”

Bob sighs, “Not you too.”

“What you feel guilty, about it now?” Johnny teases and Bob wishes Johnny were there so he could punch him in the shoulder like he always did when he would tease him.

“Well I love him, of course I was sad to leave him. But it's not like I won't see him again. We're still together.” Bob isn't even wary to be speaking about his love for his boyfriend to the man who he knows still has feelings for him, and he might also still return those feelings himself.

“Of course, you guys are good together.”

“Doesn't stop you from wanting to come down here a fuck me though, does it?”

Johnny laughs and shakes his head at the typical Bob reply, “What doesn't stop me?”

“That you know Jimi and I are a good couple. Even though you know fucking me isn't good for my genuine relationship with Jimi, you still want to come down and fuck me.” He says firmly, and Johnny continues to laugh.

“You think it's funny but for me it isn't. Because although I love the idea of you coming down here and fucking me, I hate the idea of cheating on Jimi more.” He picks up his cup of tea and takes a drink, vaguely wondering about what he was going to make himself for dinner that night.

“I understand, but I never planned on coming down there to fuck you.”

Bob's eyebrows raise, “Oh really?”

“Yeah because I didn't know you and Jimi were apart, but now that I know that Bobby is there all alone and lonesome...” Johnny says jokingly and Bob puts his face in his hand.

“We can't, Johnny.” 

“He doesn't have to know.”

“But he will.”

“Don't tell him.”

Bob sighs loudly and Johnny asks him then, “How long is Jimi supposed to be in England?”

“He's living there.” Bob says flatly.

“He never plans on coming back to the states?”

“Of course he's going to come back.”

“So when?”

“A few months...”

“Shit Bob, is he going to be visiting at all?”

Bob shrugs even though he knows Johnny can't see him, and he stays silent.

Johnny hums lightly, “Well I'll be done touring in a few days or so. You could come down here, or I could go down there.”

“I don't think I could bare to face your wife, Johnny.” Bob admits, thinking about how awful it would be to have to keep it cool, and not break down and cry from his guilt.

“Then it's settled, I'm coming to Woodstock.”

 

~.~.~

 

6 days later Johnny is in Bob's house and Bob is making them tea, fumbling nervously around the kitchen. Johnny sits there laughing quietly while smoking a cigarette.

“What's with you 'n tea, Bobby? Where's the beer, whiskey?” He smiles fondly at Bob as the younger man turns to look at him, biting his bottom lip nervously.

“I've got wine?”

Johnny throws his head back and groans, “You are such a female, man. Let's go to the bar or somethin'.”

“Bar? In public? Are you crazy? The last thing I need is Jimi finding out that we're hanging out together.”

“How could he find out?”

“The paparazzi, you nut.”

“Well shit, they might find out that I'm here anyways. What then?”

Bob sighs making their tea before sitting down next to Johnny at the small kitchen table, sliding over his cup of tea and asking how many cubes he takes.

“Johnny, I care for Jimi very much--”

“You don't have to tell me that, I know.”

“What you and I have it's...It's...What is it, Johnny?”

Johnny shrugs, “Couldn't tell ya.”

“So then why am I going to ruin a genuine relationship I have with someone who truly loves me more than anything else by fucking someone who's relationship with me doesn't hold anything special?”

Johnny looks a bit hurt, “Nothin' special?”

 

Bob shrugs, “Well you said you couldn't tell me what...this is.” He motions in between them before taking another drink of his tea, “This needs lemon.” He gets up and goes to the fridge, “You want lemon in your tea, Johnny?” He reaches into his fridge and grabs the sliced lemons that he'd prepared earlier.

“No thanks, Bobby.” He says lowly, “Written any new songs lately?”

“Of course, you?”

“Yep, always with you in mind.”

Bob sits back down and looks at Johnny curiously, “You write songs about me, Johnny?”

“Yeah, or when I sing some of the songs I wrote even before I met you, I sing them with you in mind, not June, not anybody else. Just you.”

Bob blushes and looks away from Johnny then, squeezing his lemon into his tea, “Oh, sure.”

“Sincerely.” 

“Drink your tea, that's good stuff.” Bob motions to his cup and Johnny can't help smirking.

He lifts the cup of tea up to his lips, making sure to get a good taste and not just drink it down.

He nods his approval, “Not much of a tea expert but that is pretty settling.”

Bob grins, “See. 'Such a female' my ass.”

Johnny smiles back at Bob over his cup of tea.

 

~.~.~

 

Bob was lying on his bed, watching Johnny as he sat in the chair at the far end of the room, singing and playing guitar for Bob.

“ _I never got over those blue eyes,”_ He sings while looking over into Bob's watchful viper blue eyes. “ _I see them everywhere._ ” He eyes move along Bob's lithe body and the jut of his hip and bit of skin that's exposed where his shirt was slightly lifted, “ _I miss those arms that held me, when all the love was there._ ”

Bob smiled, closing his eyes, letting the gentle guitar and Johnny's soothingly familiar voice send him into a calm.

“ _I wonder if he's sorry, for leaving what we'd begun._ ” Bob's eyes snap open as Johnny purposefully changes the lyrics from 'she' to 'he', “ _There's someone for me somewhere, and I still miss someone._ ”

Bob closes his eyes again, sighing wistfully.

He doesn't hear as Johnny sets aside his acoustic and makes his way towards Bob's bed. 

Though his eyes begin to open when he feels the other man joining him on the king sized bed. “May I join you in your relaxation?” He whispers to the smaller man who only hums ever so quietly in response.

Johnny lies down next to Bob and fixes his eyes onto the boy, reaching up to touch Bob's hair slightly. He goes to take Bob's hand, but stops when he sees the ring on his finger.

He lifts the hand to inspect the ring closer, “He get this ring for you?”

“Mhm.” Bob replies, “Says 'Love Only You' on the inside.”

Johnny scoffs, “Way to make me feel like guilty shit.”

“Serves you right.” Bob keeps his eyes closed, not having to open his eyes to know Johnny is probably giving him the evil eye.

“So you have enough of a soul to feel guilty, but not enough of a soul to stop?” Bob replies gently, reaching up a hand to Johnny's cheek, “I told Jimi that if I was with you, I'd probably be cheating on you with him.” He finally opens his eyes, and Johnny's dark brown eyes narrow at Bob's words.

“I bet that didn't make him too happy.”

Bob snorts, “You'd be right.”

Johnny just caresses Bob's cheek as he thinks over what Bob had said, “Ask him if he'd be into having an open relationship.”

Bob shakes his head, “He would absolutely not be into that.”

“How do you know?”

Bob lifts up his hand, shoving the ringed finger in Johnny's face, “Hm, I don't know maybe the _promise ring_ on my finger?”

Johnny looks down out his own wedding ring, “She'd kill me if she ever found out.”

Bob also looks down to Johnny's hand, “Knowing June, she might just slap you and kick you out. She'd forgive you in a few years, maybe 5 if you're lucky.” He teases and Johnny gives Bob an evil glare.

“And you?” Johnny snaps.

Bob grins, “Jimi would just fuck me with no mercy as punishment and then be pissy for a week before forgiving me.”

Johnny cusses under his breath, “You've got it so good.”

“Don't I know it.”

 

They fall asleep on the bed together, and when Johnny wakes up, Bob's head is on his chest, and the young singer looks so peaceful and beautiful. Jimi was a lucky bastard indeed.

 

Bob's shifts slightly in his sleep, and Johnny's stomach tightens when he hears Bob utter his boyfriends name, while squeezing his arms around Johnny's body.

“Johnny, not Jimi.” Johnny whispers as a joke, but funnily enough, Bob replies.

“Why is Johnny here?” his voice is croaky and distant.

Johnny wasn't sure if Bob was still asleep, or if he was going along with it. He shook Bob's shoulder curiously and when Bob didn't wake, Johnny chuckled to himself.

“Because Bobby is lonely.”

Bob just makes a low noise in response and it's such a unbelievably cute moment that Johnny's face hurts from smiling so much.

“You are too much, baby.” He whispers, laying down with Bob, deciding to just go back to sleep.

 

~.~.~

 

Bob wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing and he nearly jumps when he sees a certain Johnny Cash lying next to him.

He moves from his bed and out of his room to go answer the phone.

He takes a seat at his desk, “Hello?” He looks over at his clock to see that it's only 7 am. He curses the person who called for calling him this early.

“My lover man,” Jimi's voice brings a sleepy smile to Bob's face.

“It's early here Jimi, I was sleeping.”

“I wanted to hear your voice while I had free time to call you.”

“Thank you.” Bob replies, looking over the words of the song he was typing up yesterday. He wrinkled his nose at it, concluding that he didn't like it.

 

“I miss you so much, Bobby.”

Bob grabs his cigarettes and lights one up, leaning back in his chair, “I miss you too.” 

“How did you spend your night?”

“Writing, what about you? Let me guess.” Bob smiles, listening to sounds of Jimi's laughter.

“What's your guess?”

Bob really loves Jimi in these moments, “Party. Your room or Noel's?”

“Noel's.”

“How is everyone?”

“Everyone is good, except me. I'm missing my baby.” Jimi whispers into the phone and Bob figures that there must be other people around.

“Then hurry up and get your butt back in the states.”

“You get your ass back in London.”

“Not happening.”

“You're so cruel.”

“Anyways, I gotta go make myself breakfast now, Jimi. Call me again when you can.” Bob says as he sees Johnny emerging from the bedroom, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Alright, baby, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

 

Bobs hangs up the phone and then starts typing on his typewriter, seeing if he could somehow make the song better.

 

“You want me to cook somethin'?” Johnny asks and Bob shrugs, suddenly getting into the writing before him.

“If you want. I'll eat what ever.” Bob says then turns in his chair to look at Johnny, “Actually just make me some toast. You should make me some tea too, with lemon.” He turns back to his typing and Johnny just watches Bob for a moment before smiling to himself.

“Sure thing, baby. Anything on that toast?”

“Strawberry jam.”

“2 sugars for your tea right?”

Bob grins at Johnny's words, turning to meet his eyes again, “That's correct.”

Johnny smiles back at the younger man, before heading into the kitchen while Bob gets up to put a record in. “Charlie Rich?” He asks Johnny who calls back, “Sure.”

So Bob writes while Johnny makes them breakfast.

Bob could smell Johnny making eggs and it reminded him of Jimi making them eggs and bacon on Christmas morning.

He stopped his typing and looked down at the ring on his right ring finger. Jimi really loved Bob a lot, and sometimes Bob couldn't help but wonder if it was still just an infatuation, since he was a fan of Bob before he'd met him.

Bob shook the thoughts from his head, knowing that he was just trying to find more reasons to not feel guilty about this thing he had going with Johnny.

Him and Johnny hadn't even done anything yet, but Bob knew they would eventually.

“Come on to the kitchen now, Bob, it's time to eat.” Johnny's deep voice cuts through Bob's thoughts and he looks back to see Johnny walking to the dining room their plates in his hands. “I also made eggs if you don't feel like eating like a bird today.” He sets the plates on the table and Bob moves from the desk to join Johnny at the table.

 

“Just gotta get your tea.” Johnny heads back to the kitchen as Bob takes in the breakfast for him that Johnny had prepared so generously.

Bob decided that he better eat some eggs since Johnny was nice enough to make him the meal.

Johnny returns with Bob's tea, and a glass of milk for himself.

“So what should we do today?” Johnny asks, watching Bob take a bite of his toast which he notes Johnny spread strawberry jam and butter on. It was really tasty.

“We could jam, as Jimi likes to call it. On our guitars.” Bob suggests and Johnny nods as he takes a bite of his eggs. “When did you plan on going back home?”

“Whenever you want me to.”

Bob smiles and rolls his eyes, “Stay how ever long you want, of course you gotta go before Jimi gets back, but I don't think you'll be here _that_ long.”

“No I've got June back at home, remember?”

“How could I forget.” Bob mutters, “So did you get to see your kids for Christmas?” He finishes up his toast before grabbing his cigarettes and lighting one up as he listens to Johnny's response.

“I spent Christmas day at my parents with June. I saw my kids on the 22nd, but you know, their mother doesn't want much to do with me anymore, so I only get to see them when she's feelin' generous.” Johnny replies, looking at Bob to see his reaction to that.

Bob knew that Johnny had been married more than once and that he had kids with his first wife. He's never met Johnny's kids though.

“Well at least you got to see them.”

Johnny nods sadly.

“Does June want kids?”

Johnny shrugs, “We've never talked about it.”

Bob just nods, getting back to his breakfast.

The Charlie Rich record continued to play in the background while they ate and Bob vaguely wondered what Jimi would really do if Bob cheated on him again. Yes Jimi was a little too nice for his own good sometimes. But would he really forgive Bob so easily this time? Or would he get fed up and leave Bob for good?

The thought made Bob's heart clench.

 

So when they were sitting out on Bob's back porch, and Johnny tried to lean over and kiss Bob, Bob turned away.

Johnny looked at Bob strangely for a moment, “It's just a kiss, Bob.”

Bob bites his bottom lip and continues to look away from his friend, “It's getting cold, we should go inside.” He stands, and Johnny reaches his hand out to Bob's and once he's grasped it, he pulls Bob over to him.

“I'm not tryin' to ruin you, I'm sorry.” Johnny nearly whispers and he can see that Bob's got a tear rolling down his pale cheek. He reaches up to wipe the tear away, “I don't want to ruin anything you've got going with Jimi, you're my friend. But I also...” He looks down to Bob's wet lips, really wanting to kiss them but Bob would probably continue to avoid it, “You're so damn beautiful, I can't help wantin' you.” He risked bringing a hand up to Bob's waist as he looks up into the younger man's bright blue eyes.

Bob let Johnny touch him and kept his eyes locked with the darker ones. Johnny pulled Bob closer so that Bob was sort of standing between his legs. He wrapped both arms around Bob's waist as they continued gaze into each others eyes.

Bob pulled back and grabbed Johnny's hand, tugging his hand to indicate that he wanted Johnny to stand up. So Johnny stands, and lets himself be led into the house and to Bob's bedroom.

~.~.~

 

Bob is passed out on the bed with Johnny lying next to him, watching him as he sleeps. Johnny smiles at the the subtle rise and fall of Bob's chest as he breaths.

He really can't help himself when he's with Bob.

Johnny picks up Bob's acoustic and begins to play a random tune quietly while he watches Bob sleep. 

Bob's currently dreaming about Jimi playing the guitar, but he begins to get confused because it sounds like Johnny Cash's guitar playing, not his boyfriends. His confusion stirs him out of his dream and soon his hazy blue eyes have opened and he's looking at the source of the guitar playing from his dream.

Johnny stops playing the moment he sees that Bob's woken up, “I'm sorry, darlin'.” He sets the guitar aside and reaches over a hand to Bob's cheek, “Go back to sleep.”

Bob blinks, “What time is it?” 

“Nearly dinner time, you want me to cook you somethin'?”

Bob closes his eyes again and enjoys the feel of Johnny's finger's running through his hair.  
“If you want.”

Johnny smiles, “I'm asking what _you_ want.” 

Bob hums lightly, “I'll eat what ever you make.”

“Alright.” Johnny gets up from the bed, “I'll start cookin' after I shower.” He heads to the bathroom, and Bob falls asleep again, continuing off where he last was in his dream. Except now he's imagining something similar to what Jimi would be playing, not confused by Johnny's playing.

When Johnny emerges from the bathroom he smiles at a sleeping Bob. He pulls on some new clothes before leaving the room to go into the kitchen.

He puts a record on while he cooks, one of Bob's records, his newest one 'Blonde on Blonde.' Johnny stares at the record cover for a few seconds, noting Bob's hard look, messy hair and hazy eyes. 

He smiles before setting the case back down and starting the record.

 

He looks through Bob's fridge and freezer, wondering what the hell he's going to make. Bob doesn't have much, god only knows how much he hasn't been eating lately.

“Shit, gonna have to go shopping.” He mutters.

 

~.~.~

 

Bob always seems to wake up to the sounds of the phone ringing. He smiles though, already having an idea on who it is.

He pulls on his boxers and heads into the next room where his desk is located. He flops down in the chair and answers the phone.

“Julie Andrews speaking.” He smiles into the phone as he listens to the sounds of Jimi's laughing. Bob looks around, wondering where the hell Johnny is.

“I'm alone now in my hotel room, finally ready to turn in for the day. How are you?” Jimi asks while lighting up a cigarette. “I miss you.”

Bob closes his eyes puts his hand over his eyelids, “I miss you too.” The guilt is beginning to sink into his bones and he wants to cry.

“This is unbearable, baby, just come back.” Jimi stresses.

“You first.” Bob mutters.

Jimi sighs. “Bob I gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” His eyes open as he hears the tone of Jimi's voice.

“I uh, shit. I cheated on you.” He's clearly been drinking, and drinking makes people a bit more honest than if they were sober.

Bob's stomach drops and he doesn't really know what to say for a minute.

They're both silent until Jimi finally speaks again, “If you were here I would have never done it, baby--”

“That blonde chick, right?” Bob nearly snaps, his free hand clenching into a tight fist.

“Which one?”

Bob's teeth clench along with his fist, “The one who was always hanging over you! The one who always gave me dirty looks!” Bob screams and Jimi is quiet.

“Fucking hypocrite.” Bob accuses.

“Bob, I feel terrible about it.”

“You should.”

“Oh come on.”

“Fuck you, go fuck your blonde.”

“Don't be like that Bob, I'm sorry.” He reaches over and grabs his bottle of whiskey, knowing he's going to need it tonight. 

Bob then realizes that he's got no room to talk.

He's cheated on Jimi twice now.

But why does it hurt so much knowing that Jimi cheated on him too? It hurts more than Bob would have ever imagined.

He's crying now and it's tearing Jimi apart, “Don't cry, baby, please.”

“This isn't going to work, is it, Jimi?” Bob sobs, wiping at his eyes as he hears the front door opening. He looks over and sees Johnny carrying several bags of groceries.

Johnny closes the front door behind him and looks over at Bob, who's hunched over the desk, hiding his face, whispering.

“What isn't going to work?” Jimi hesitates to ask, fearing the answer he's going to get.

“Us.”

 

Jimi's heart shatters, “Please, Bob, no—”

Bob shakes his head, “Long distance relationships never work, Jimi.”

“Bob this isn't permanent, we'll be together again soon! I'll come down to Woodstock as soon as I know that I can. My record is going to be released some time in April, we're almost done recording. That's only 3 months from now, Bob.”

“How many times are you going to cheat on me during those 3 months, Jimi?” Bob's voice is hard. He can hear Johnny messing about in the kitchen, a reminder that he's not innocent in this either, but Jimi doesn't have to know that.

“Bob, you've cheated on me too you know. Have you forgotten that?”

“Yes I know.” He mutters harshly.

“And I forgave you. I'd forgive you again, and again.”

Bob closes his eyes, guilt nearly drowning him by now.

“But maybe I'm just stupid.” Jimi's voice isn't gentle anymore, “Stupid enough for you that I don't care how much you hurt me. As long as it's me who's holding you at night, I'm fine.”

“No one deserves that, Jimi, you can't do that.”

“Why the hell not!?”

“Because people will take advantage of that, you idiot!”

“What, like you?”

“Yes!”

Jimi is quiet a moment.

“You've seen him again, haven't you?” Jimi's voice is low.

Bob shakes his head, “Jimi we're done, it's over.” And he hangs up before Jimi can say another word.

He realizes that his Blonde on Blonde record is playing in the background. 4th Time Around is playing lowly and his mind drifts back to last year, when he played that song on stage for Jimi who'd requested it.

He quickly gets up from his desk and grabs the record from the player, throwing it at the wall he watches it shatter.

“Woh!” Johnny yells from the kitchen, quickly coming out to see what the ruckus was. He looks down at the broken record, then to Bob who's kneeling on the floor with his face in his hands, obviously crying.

“Bob, what is it? Who was that on the phone, was that Jimi?” He puts a hand on Bob's back and Bob says nothing, just continues to kneel there and cry.

 

~.~.~

 

Jimi just sits there on his hotel bed, still holding the phone to his ear. Suddenly he hangs up the phone and begins dialing Bob's number again, not able to accept what he'd heard his boyfriend (ex boyfriend?) say.

He isn't surprised when no one answers.

So he tries again and again, and again, until the phone stops ringing entirely, telling him that Bob had unplugged the phone jack.

Son of a bitch.

 

~.~.~

 

Johnny carries a nearly weightless Bob to his bedroom, lying him on top of the blankets as the younger man continues to cry. Johnny grabs a box of tissue from the bathroom and sets them next to Bob, who's got his face hidden in a pillow.

“What do you need, Bob?” He asks and Bob pulls his face from the pillow, but not to look at Johnny. He grabs a cigarette from his pocket and lights it up before turning away from Johnny who sighs and leaves the room to go finish in the kitchen.

Johnny carries a plate of spaghetti to Bob's room along with a cup of tea, and he didn't forget the lemon.

“Here Bob, you should eat.” He sets them on the nightstand and looks over to Bob, who's eyes are open as he stares at the ceiling with a blank look on his face. 

Well at the least the tears have stopped.

“I broke up with Jimi.” He says suddenly and Johnny's eyebrows raise.

“Why?”

“He cheated on me with some woman.” Bob says the last word like it's something disgusting.

Johnny sits down on the edge of the bed, “Does he know I'm here with you?”

Bob shakes his head, reaching over to the tea, he doesn't even bother to squeeze in the lemon. His fingers are shaking slightly as he takes a drink.

“So basically,” Johnny starts, reaching over and taking Bob's hand to get him to look at him, Bob's sad blue eyes are rimmed in red from the crying, “You're allowed to cheat on him, but he can't cheat on you?”

Bob scoffs, “Fuck off.” He tugs his hand away.

“No, really, Bob. That's what it seems like to me.”

“Well fuck you, you don't know shit, man.”

“I think I do Bob, you forget I'm nearly a decade older than you.”

Bob grunts, “Whatever.”

“I don't think you should leave him, Bob.” Johnny says simply and Bob rolls his eyes.

 

“Too late.”

“You can call him back.”

“Drop it, Johnny.” 

Johnny stands up from the bed, giving a shrug, “Alright.” and he leaves Bob alone in the room to his own thoughts.

~.~.~

A few days later, fed up with Bob's groveling, Johnny decides to leave. Bob doesn't even blink and eye, he waves Johnny off and continues to type angrily at his typewriter.

Johnny throws his bag over his shoulder, kisses Bob's hair and then leaves the house without a word of goodbye.

~.~.~

 

3 Months Later-

 

Bob and Jimi still haven't spoken. Bob plugged his phone back in, and he couldn't ignore every call, because not every call was Jimi. He'd answer the phone, not saying a word, waiting for the other person to speak first so he could see if it was Jimi.

When the younger man's voice would break through the silence, “Bob?”

Bob would slam the phone down.

He received letters from Jimi also, and he didn't have enough self control to not read them.

They usually just made Bob cry and he'd throw them into his nightstand drawer and proceed to cry himself to sleep.

 

One day he got a package from Jimi, and it was Jimi's new record, along with a note that read, “Mainly inspired by you.”

Bob scoffed and moved his record player into his room so he could lie in bed while listening to it.

Some of the songs he remembers hearing when he'd go to the studio with Jimi and when he'd play them on stage. It was sort of nostalgic. It was a very new type of music, and Bob liked it, but he didn't like how personal some of the lyrics were to his and Jimi's relationship.

Jimi had the nerve to write one about Bob cheating on him. No matter how subtle it was, Bob knew it was about him.

Bob had the urge to call Jimi and cuss him out about it.

So he did.

He stopped the record so he wouldn't miss any of it, and he went to his desk, calling Jimi's managers office number. He got in contact with one of Jimi's manager's assistants and asked them for a number he could contact Jimi at.

She told him that Jimi was actually on a plane, on his way back to America to visit a friend.

A friend? Which friend?

Bob grumbled and hung up the phone.

Then he realized... Jimi must be coming to see him.

Ah, shit.

 

~.~.~

 

Bob didn't sleep, he just had this feeling that there would be a knock on his door not too long from now. He'd made that phone call almost 10 hours ago and it was nearing midnight.

 

Bob was getting tired though, and he began to tell himself that Jimi wasn't going to see him, maybe he was seeing someone else in Seattle or something. With that thought, he gave up and let himself fall asleep.

He woke up due to some incessant sound and he jumped up from his bed, wondering if someone was trying to break into his house.

Then he heard a muffled sound of someones yelling.

A very familiar voice.

 

Was he still dreaming?

 

“Mother fucker.” He storms out of the room and to his front door. He unlocks the door and throws it open, being met with the sight of the person he _knew_ would be there. 

He's more angry that he'd been woken up at 12 am, than the fact that it's Jimi at his door, and as he goes to slam the door shut, Jimi stops it with his foot.

“Fuck it's so nice to see you.” He steps forward and Bob steps back as Jimi reaches out his hands to try and touch him.

“Jimi I told you we're done.” Bob snaps, trying to shove Jimi out of the door, but Jimi is stronger and he gets through the door, shutting it behind him. “Jimi get the fuck out of my house.” Bob shouts and Jimi shakes his head, grabbing at Bob's hands as Bob shoves at his chest.

“Calm down please, would you let me talk?”

“Fuck you, don't touch me. I know your hands have been all over that blonde whore.”

Jimi's eyes go wide at Bobby's harsh words, “Would you stop cussing at me for one minute and let me talk--”

“No, just get the hell out.”

Jimi didn't move, “How do you like the record?”

Bob continues to glare at Jimi, “You fucking wrote about me.”

“Of course I did. But not in every song.”

Bob crosses his arms and he can see Jimi almost smiling, “Oh how I have missed looking into those gorgeous blue eyes.” Jimi steps forward, heart leaping as Bob doesn't step back away from him.

Jimi brings a hand up to Bob's cheek, shaking his head in wonder, “It has been way too damn long.” His eyes fall down to Bob's small but plush lips, leaning down to kiss them.

Bob doesn't kiss back, he just continues to glare as Jimi meets his eyes again.

“Come on, baby--”

“Don't 'come on baby', me. I broke up with you.” Bob turns around to walk away from Jimi, and Jimi grabs his hand, stopping Bob.

“I can't accept that, I'm sorry.” Jimi replies.

“Well you're going to have to!”

“Why? Hm? I forgave you, why can't you forgive me?” He pulls Bob against him and Bob lets himself be held, but he doesn't look at Jimi's face, knowing it's going to kill him.

Jimi puts a finger under Bob's chin, and lifts his face, but Bob shifts his eyes away, “We're good for each other Bob, you know this.” He lifts Bob's right hand up, seeing that Bob's still got the promise ring on, as does Jimi. “See you're still wearing the ring.” Jimi kisses that hand and Bob pulls it away.

“I'll leave you if that's what you really want. But just know, you're ruining someone for life. You're gonna ruin me, baby.” His eyes roam all over Bob's face, his sharp features, those eyes, God those eyes would be the death of Jimi.

“How are we good together if we cheat on each other?” Bob's voice is shaky as he speaks and Jimi sighs, running his fingers down Bob's neck.

“Everything is okay when I'm with you, I can be me, I can smile and mean it.” Jimi kisses Bob's cheek and Bob lets his eyes fall shut.

He's not going to lie to himself and say that he didn't miss Jimi, or Jimi's touch. He missed it so much that to have it back now is almost too much.

“Dammit, Jimi.” Bob opens his eyes and begins tugging Jimi's hand and leading him down the hall to his bedroom. He pushes Jimi down onto the bed and climbs on top of the younger man to straddle his waist. Bob is going so fast that Jimi can barely keep up. Bob is kissing Jimi furiously, while undoing Jimi's belt buckle and pulling his pants down enough so he can have access to Jimi's dick. Jimi moans lightly as Bob begins stroking him, while reaching over to his nightstand for the lube. Jimi pulls his shirt off and throws it to the ground, as Bob begins stroking Jimi with his now lubricated hand.

“Fuck.” Jimi throws his head back against the headboard as Bob brings him fully erect with just his hand.

Bob admires the size of Jimi in his hand for a few moments, cussing in wonder before moving to take off his pants. Before Bob can get back to what he was doing, Jimi has grabbed him and pulled him to the end of the bed, pushing Bob flat on his back. Bob reaches down to take off his own shirt and sets it aside, watching as Jimi moves to stand in front of the bed between Bob's legs, pouring lube onto his fingers. 

“I don't fucking need that, just fuck me.” Bob wraps his legs around Jimi's waist pulling Jimi against him, feeling Jimi's erection rub against his thigh.

Jimi moans, “I don't want to hurt y--”

“God dammit.” Bob reaches down and grabs Jimi's erection, he shuffles his hips forward until his feels the tip pressing against his entrance. He tugs Jimi's hips forward with his legs, gasping as Jimi enters him roughly. “Fuckin' hell.” He hisses and Jimi starts to pull back, but Bob wraps his legs tighter around Jimi's hips, making sure he doesn't move back, “Move.” He orders and Jimi can see that Bob is in pain, but Bob's legs have got a vice grip on his waist, keeping Jimi there.

“Fucking masochist.” Jimi mutters as he grabs onto Bob's hips, “Ease up, would you?” He pinches Bob's thigh and Bob relents, loosing up his legs a bit. Jimi grabs the back of Bob's thigh and pushes it back so he can watch himself moving inside of Bob the rest of the way. “Relax.” He whispers, feeling how tense Bob is. 

“Just fuck me already!” Bob shouts and Jimi clenches his teeth, annoyed with Bob's attitude.

“You know what, fine.” He pulls back and shoves his hips back forcefully, watching as Bob shuts his eyes, mouth falling open in a gasp, “You want to be punished, I'll fucking punish you then.” He starts up a fast and firm pace, watching Bob come undone, still as vocal as ever, without the usual keening of Jimi's name.

Bob's got an evil plan in his mind, something he know will make Jimi really hate him. Maybe it'll get Jimi to give him up.

But he kind of wants to get fucked right now, so he'll save it for later.

Bob reaches his arms back, fingernails digging into the bed sheets as he cries out his pleasure, chills going up his spine as Jimi slams mercilessly into him, getting his prostate almost every thrust. 

It's an angry fuck, a fuck without a kiss, murmur of encouragement, or praise. The way Bob knew he deserved it. Someone had to teach Jimi to not be so forgiving.

Once Bob is on the edge, and he knows he's about to come, he's remembers his plan, “Fuck, Johnny.” He moans out the name purposefully, “So good, mmm.” And then his back is arching off of the bed as he comes hard against his tummy. He feels Jimi stiffen against him and Bob knows it couldn't be Jimi coming. Jimi rarely came that fast.

Jimi's brown eyes are looking at Bob with so much hurt Bob wonders if he's going to start crying. Bob sighs in content and relaxes back against the bed.

Suddenly Jimi pulls from Bob, shoving the smaller mans legs aside and he begins to do up his pants. “Fuck you, Bob.” 

Bob turns his head to watch Jimi pull his shirt over his head.

Jimi shoots Bob one last disappointed look before he's heading out of the room. Jimi stops at the doorway as he notices Bob's record player, and his new record 'Are You Experienced' is on it. He walks over to the record player, lifts the needle and flips the record over. He moves the needle to a certain point, before switching it on. “Wrote this one for you.” He says sadly.

“Goodbye, Bob.” He turns then, leaving without another glance to the blue eyed man on the bed as the song begins to play.

 

Bob watches Jimi go, his fingers itching to reach out to the man he loved so deeply in his heart, but knew he didn't deserve. Bob longed to call out to him, but he couldn't.

'May This Be Love' continued to play lowly into the otherwise quiet room, while Bob cried foolishly for himself, and for his lost love.

 

Epilogue-

Over 3 Years Later-

Bob hasn't seen Jimi since that last night, but he's watched Jimi's career sky rocket over the last years. A very big part of him ached to go find the musician and try to get back with him. But another part of him knows he shouldn't.

One morning Bob was sat on his couch, watching the TV (That he finally decided to buy), and Jimi's face appears on the screen as it has many times before. Bob can't help smiling, but he frowns when he sees it's a news channel.

Under the photo of Jimi on the screen it says, “Jimi Hendrix, 1942-1970”

Bob narrows his eyes, “What?”

He listens as the man begins to explain that Jimi had died earlier that day in the afternoon.

Bob brings a hand up to his mouth as he gasps.

He shakes his head in denial.

Shutting off the TV, he stands up and begins pacing the room. “No, no, no.” He nearly shouts, “Not, Jimi, not my, Jimi.” Tears are falling down his cheeks without him realizing.

Suddenly his phone begins to ring.

He runs to it and shouts into the phone, “Jimi!?”

“So you heard.” It's Bob's friend Robbie and Bob continues to shake his head.

“He's not really gone, he can't be.”

“He is, Bob.”

Bob begins to shake and he slams the phone down, “No!” he yells.

 

His mind ran over the last time he was with Jimi, when he'd cried out Johnny's name during sex, just so Jimi would leave him. Jimi was so hurt, so betrayed, all because of Bob.

Bob pulled at his hair, loathing himself for letting that be their last moments together.

“I'm fucking sorry, baby.” He falls to his knees, “I'm so sorry. I love you.” 

 

He doesn't go to Jimi's funeral. He knows he wouldn't be able to handle it.

All he can do is wallow. Hating himself so much for letting what they had end. 

Maybe Jimi would have still been alive, maybe they would have been happy together.

“I'm sorry.”

THE END.

THE END


End file.
